Page 18 of Just One Bite

Chapter Thirteen

Parker

There’s a hand in the water, reaching toward the sky.

I fall to my knees, grasp it, and pull with all I have.

You have to live.

You have to keep going. Please don’t leave me here alone.

I wake with Olivia lying across my chest. My leg rests between her thighs, and one of her legs is draped over my lower half. Her scent greets me, and I don’t want to move. She looks so peaceful even though the headphones I gave her have fallen off.

I close my eyes to fall back asleep, but the remnants of my dream stir in my mind.

I don’t remember my dreams. Except this one.

It’s always the same one. The dream I’ve had since I was a boy—a frozen lake spans before me with a break in the ice, a hand stretched to the sky, and the shadowed outline of someone beneath the frigid water.

I fall to my knees and grab the hand that’s sinking into the depths, desperately pulling to save them while screaming for help.

They never come up. I never see the conclusion, always waking in a panic.

But not today with a beautiful girl lying on my chest. The echoing of student laughter and movement in the hallway startles her.

She shoots up. “I’m going to be late.”

I turn on my lamp and check the time on my nightstand. “Relax, it’s only six thirty.”

There are no windows in my room, so it’s basically a dungeon if there’s no light on.

“That’s late. I should have gotten up to dance. I still have to—”

I drag her back down to my chest. “Let’s take a few more minutes before all chaos breaks out, okay? I need some time to wake up first.”

She settles into me with a hand over my heart, and I bring it into the light.

I want a little more time to inspect her and hold her in my arms. And now she is relaxed, fully open in the safety of my room.

She’s different when she isn’t intimidating every man with that sullen stare.

Everything is softer: her eyes, her skin.

We should be separating, but instead, we choose connection.

“Did you sleep all right?” I ask.

“Yeah. I didn’t wake up at all. Normally, I will even with headphones.”

“Is this a pretty normal occurrence for you?”

I was shocked to see her perched in my doorway last night. When she jumped at the thunder, it was obvious.

“You mean knocking on a man’s door and asking to sleep in his bed?

No. I’m usually more prepared or my sisters help me.

When I was little, they let me sleep in their beds, now I just use headphones.

We all slept in the same room anyway. I called them last night, but they didn’t answer. They’re probably blowing up my phone.”

She doesn’t make a move to get up, so I run my hands through her hair.

It’s like we’re in a bubble. The kind where we aren’t just friends enjoying the sensation of each other’s skin.

Olivia feels familiar. Her skin. Her scent.

Her hair. When I stroke her and squeeze her next to me, it’s like I’ve done it before a hundred times.

It’s never been like this for me, and I know once that door opens, it’s over. She chose me last night, and I’m happier about that than I expected.

“Have you always been afraid of thunderstorms?”

“Yeah … since I can remember. It’s embarrassing.”

“No it’s not.”

“It’s a child’s fear most people grow out of. Sometimes, it sends me into a panic attack if I’m caught off guard. I was going to go to the common room if you didn’t answer.”

“You mean with the huge windows where you can see the lightning and hear the rain hitting the grass in unison with the thunder?”

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“That’s okay.” I rub her arm. “You can lay in my bed with me whenever you want, and I’ll hold you.”

She’s quiet and averts her gaze to my chest. Probably too forward, but I don’t regret saying it. The memory of her trembling in tears while lying in my arms is still fresh.

“You wouldn’t tell anyone?”

“Our secret. No questions asked.”

She smiles and sits up to run her hands through her hair. It’s a tangled mess, but I don’t mention it. “Will this help with the smell?”

“I have a little confession. I started to scent you in the hallway last night. I should have told you, but I was tipsy and needed to scent you before I let you walk anywhere else on the campus alone. But scenting is … more effective if I can lick places other than just your neck.”

She wipes her eyes. “Are you asking me … if you can lick me?”

My phone dings, and as much as I want to ignore it, I need to check if it’s Gavin.

It’s not. I’ve been sent a picture in the Rage team group chat:

This you, Cap?

It's a screenshot from the forum, a picture of Olivia and me in the Noxx House hallway with her head against the wall, and my lips on her collarbone.

My skin itches when I see how into it she looks.

The caption reads: Heated Hallway Rendezvous .

There are already four hundred likes and a hundred comments, and it was only posted thirty minutes ago.

“This is perfect,” I say. “We want these people to believe we’re heated lovers in the hallway.”

“You knew someone was going to take this picture.”

“Well, no, not really. I just got caught up in how I wanted to make you smell like me, but it’s not enough … Could I … scent you again? Like right now?”

“You do want to lick me.”

“It’s not as gross as it sounds. If you encounter any other Weres on campus, especially Aster and Barrett, I want it to be obvious you’re mine.”

She stares at the hearth I don’t use—Weres are hot enough—and my pile of Rage gear on the floor.

I got put in one of the smaller rooms this year, but I don’t miss the light from the window.

I’m hardly in my room anyway. Olivia fingers the knit blanket at the foot of the bed—the baby blanket my mother made me.

I don’t advertise that, but I’ll tell her about it if she asks.

“I don’t know,” she concludes.

“Do you trust me?”

“We just met.” She huffs. “I trust that you’re decent enough to help me … three times, but those things didn’t involve you licking me.”

“Technically, two of them did. But you’re right. Trust is earned. I’ll show you. Nothing happens that you don’t want to happen. You’re in control.”

“I don’t want to have sex with you.”

I can’t help but smile at the way she says it. Like she’d accidentally stumble upon us doing it. “I didn’t think that was on the table, but it’s noted. No sex. Just licking occasionally. All for the cause.”

She bites the edge of her cheek. “Okay.”

“Lay down.”

“Why do I need to be lying down?”

“It’s easier. I need access to you. Under your clothes.”

She sighs but complies. The scent of her arousal flutters into our space. I’m about to be tested. I want to make a smart-ass comment about how good she’s being at listening, but I need to stop flirting with her while my lips are on her body. The less talking we do, the better. It will be quick and—

“W-what are you doing?” she asks as I move the hem of her shirt up and reveal her stomach.

“Trying to get the hardest part done first. It can’t just be your neck. I need to scent you everywhere.”

“Hurry up.”

I lean over her and move lower, lifting her shirt higher. “Yes, ma’am.”

Testing a patch of skin by her hips, my lips brush against her, and she flinches.

The skin on her stomach is hot. There’s a brief, aching satisfaction that comes from knowing it’s because she was lying on top of me.

“It’s okay. Relax.”

Her heart races as I kiss her stomach and caress her hip with my tongue, then when I reach the bone, I suck and creep up with deliberate light flicks of my tongue. She’s so warm. She tastes so sweet. I linger longer than I should, but once I taste her, I want more .

It’s just us. Our scents mingling in my sheets. The sound of my wet kisses as I lick skin, and hushed breaths.

Her fingers twist in the sheets by my head while her breath catches in her chest. There’s not much room for us both.

The higher I go, the more my broad frame pins her to the bed.

She holds her breath when my lips meet her ribs.

I think I’m making her uncomfortable, but her arousal is growing with each pass of my tongue on her stomach.

“It’s okay to like this, you know? A man kissing your body. Running his tongue over you. There are no cameras here. No one is watching. It’s just me.”

I kiss her again. Then another taste. It’s so fucking good. “You can make noise.”

I remember her words from before. There was a specific reason she used them. I hope she’ll tell me one day, but right now, it’s about trust.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

She doesn’t speak as I move up her abdomen, but her hands unwind from the sheets and twist in my hair instead. The first breathy exhale accompanies my lips on her stomach, and her back arches.

I should have kept my mouth shut. Because what the fuck .

I’m starved for her in a way I don’t understand.

One tiny motion, and I want to map her body with my tongue.

I want to explore all her curves as if I’ve waited a lifetime to kiss her stomach and taste her skin.

Like I’ve missed her—someone I’ve just met.

My hand supports her lower back as I drag her into me.

I could make this faster, but every soaring beat of her heart fastens itself to me.

I want to give her more, to make her feel good.

My pace slows, then I stop just below her breast and lick.

Her fingers clench in my hair, and a satisfied hum vibrates in my throat.

She melts into me, her legs spreading farther, her breath rushing from her lungs.

She likes this. I like this. It should be awkward.

We’re practically strangers, but there’s something natural about touching her.

There’s no ignoring where all my blood has rushed to. I fight the ache of my cock and drive my hips into the bed. My own carnal urges bubble up, but I beat them down. I’m thinking of blood and claiming. Marking. Biting. Sex.

I run the bridge of my nose down her abdomen and stop just below her belly button.

For a split second, I let my mind run wild with fantasies of scenting her the proper way.

A way she won’t be able to wash off in the shower.

The possessive need to fill her is excruciating.

The urge boils over in my blood till I need it so bad I run my teeth over the skin there.

Lower and lower. All of this is mine. I’m never going to let another person taste her.

“Parker.”

It’s the first time I’ve heard my name on her lips like that. Sultry and needy. I just want to give her what she wants. More. Less. Anything.

“Yes?” I have the best angle of her bare stomach and the underside of her breasts.

“You feel so …” So, what, Olivia?

I tug at the hem of her pants, and her fingers tighten in my hair. Her cheeks are flush, and her eyes are filled with desire.

“Trust me,” I say, and I wait for a nod of approval before I drag her pajamas past her ankles. I can’t believe she’s letting me. Shit.

The scent of her arousal ruins my resolve, so I run my hand over her thigh to not startle her. I know where I want to touch her. But I don’t. I won’t, even if every instinct in me is screaming to.

She gasps when my lips meet her thigh.

“You were saying …” I say as I go to work scenting her thighs and running my tongue across her smooth skin.

Another kiss … and she lets out another breathy noise. “You make me feel so good.”

Let me show you how good I can make you feel, Olivia.

The words are on the edge of my tongue. It’s more than wanting to satisfy my own aching cock and possessive carnal desire.

I want to show her good things and give generously.

I’m the only one who can. The only person allowed to touch her this way.

She rocks her hips slightly, desperate for friction, and it hurts not to give it to her.

I may not touch her like I want to, but I’m thinking about it.

Slipping her underwear to the side and filling her the way she craves.

The moans she’ll make with her body trembling around my fingers.

Her bad night would be just a terrible memory.

For my own sanity, I shift my attention back to the way her skin tastes.

Every kiss is like a brand. Mine. Another kiss. Parker’s. And another. Only.

I need everyone to know. I need her to know.

“You wear tights to ballet, right? ”

“Yes, why?” Her words are a breathy exhale.

“Good.” I suck at the skin of her thigh. She gasps, gripping my hair again. The exhale morphs into a faint moan. “I needed to leave a mark on you, but I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

The fresh red bruise of blood pooling beneath the skin on her thigh satisfies me enough to stop touching her for now.

Her breath calms and a strange sense of peace lingers between us as I pull away and help her with her clothes. It’s too easy. We should be awkwardly fumbling through it, but it’s like our bodies recognize each other.

I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I like it.